


All's Fair In

by LLitchi



Category: Smosh
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Dubious Consent, Love Triangles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:35:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26158903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LLitchi/pseuds/LLitchi
Summary: Lasercorn was a warlord. He never learned how to court or how to dance. All he knew was an overwhelming, all-consuming kind of will to conquer. And then he got drunk and he fell in love.
Relationships: David Moss/Matt Sohinki
Kudos: 6





	All's Fair In

**Author's Note:**

> I’m still writing all the unfinished stuff lol. I just had to get this fic out of the way first.

It wasn’t that Sohinki was especially beautiful. He was only as precisely beautiful as a crown prince ought to be. His cheekbones were sharp and delicate. His lips were full, soft, always poised on a grin. And his eyes were huge, fucking huge, making him seem more vulnerable than he really was. Up close there were flecks of mysterious sea green flickering in the grey iris, shuttered behind dark, heavy sweeps of lashes and sunk in moody shadows on his face. Lasercorn thought for the longest time that there must have been some trick played on him, being in a foreign land and drunk on foreign wines, that made him so susceptible to green eyes and princely charms, but in the end whether or not it was a trick made no difference to the fact that once Lasercorn fell for Sohinki, he fell for good.

***

They only had three months together in that palace, though they didn’t spend all three months together, and they certainly didn’t spend all three months in love. In fact Lasercorn’s first impression of the crown prince was one of pity, for Sohinki was only a placeholder, only crown prince until his uncle produced a new heir. And when the royal household greeted Lasercorn for his short visit—Lasercorn who was at that time just another warlord with a thousand of his fellow barbarians standing in front of the great citadel—Sohinki was the one who treated Lasercorn with the most exuberance, who went out of his way to make Lasercorn feel welcome, and who seemed to have sensed some sort of camaraderie with Lasercorn, them both being essentially chess pieces moved around by the tides of history, not of their own accord. Maybe, now that Lasercorn’s had time to think about it, maybe it was at that moment that Lasercorn began falling in love.

Later Lasercorn would have no impression of anyone else, all of their names and faces faded into hazy nothings as Lasercorn tried to remember everything he could about Sohinki and discarding the rest. Everything they did together became both sharper and duller by his constant turning them over and over in his head. They had been sat together that first night, and while fully aware he should have paid more attention to his host all he did was talk to Sohinki, laugh at Sohinki’s mean jokes, argue with Sohinki about the merits of different animals as companions, and drink so much wine he was leaning half his weight on Sohinki, by the end. The next day Lasercorn barely managed to speak three words with the king before Sohinki mentioned his harpsichord in passing and it was like a spell cast over Lasercorn, who’d heard of the harpsichord but had never seen it before, only had its sounds described to him in the past by the merchants who came and went with their lies and their stories, and Lasercorn suddenly had to see it for himself.

That was the first time Sohinki led Lasercorn to his music room. An airy space, with only the harpsichord and a bench in the center of it, surrounded by walls of fake painted columns, and then on the other side of it the wall just opened, flooding everything with light, huge double windows opened up to rolling gardens and still lakes, secret pleasures hidden from the visitors at the gate. Lasercorn stood there gaping until Sohinki sat down and played and Lasercorn stood there gaping still, at music faster and freer than anything he’s ever heard, more sensual than the austere organ, more decadent than anything played on strings. The song itself was mercurial and strange, almost seductive…no, with the intent to seduce. Sohinki’s hands were fast on the keys and his figure was limned by the midmorning light, all of it conspiring, lulling Lasercorn to do something so ludicrous as to be drawn close and card his fingers through Sohinki’s hair, gently, absentmindedly, needing to touch without causing Sohinki to stop.

Sohinki didn’t stop. The hair was soft and warm in Lasercorn’s fingers. Maybe that was the moment that Lasercorn began falling in love, after all.

Was Lasercorn already in love when they went for that hunt, alone, down the hillside and by the lakes, where Sohinki lost his crossbow in the water and demanded to share with Lasercorn? They had a friendly competition going then and Sohinki said that it would have been the height of dishonor had Lasercorn been allowed to win by default. So they swapped Lasercorn’s crossbow back and forth, constantly stopping and annoying the horses and having the worst aim of their lives, and neither of them could stop laughing long enough to say that it was a travesty, a disgrace, disguised as a perfect afternoon on horseback.

If Lasercorn was in love then, he certainly was not aware of it. Innocent things become absurdly romantic when he remembered them in retrospect. Sohinki determinedly trying to push Lasercorn into the lake just because Lasercorn boasted about being very difficult to knock off his feet. Sohinki running away immediately when Lasercorn began to fight back, only to be tackled to the ground. Lasercorn on top of Sohinki, laughing maniacally and asking if Sohinki had never been in an actual fight before, and Sohinki, giggling, batting ineffectually at Lasercorn’s arms, asking back, why would he, he wasn’t a masochist, he didn’t like pain you idiot. And what would have happened if Lasercorn just leaned down and kissed Sohinki right then, days after meeting him, perhaps drunk of the exhilaration of falling in love, or just the thrill of instantly becoming someone’s friend? Where would they be now instead of Lasercorn angrily muttering to himself in his room, alone, while his men loudly gossiped outside about his recent onset of megalomania. That damn bard, Flitz, also participated in the gossip, but Flitz occasionally considered Lasercorn knowingly as if he’d seen the way Lasercorn stick to Sohinki throughout that visit, the two of them thick as thieves. As if Flitz knew more than he let on.

There were other moments of opportunity. Moments pregnant with meaning, with intent, with that fluttery feeling in Lasercorn’s chest that he didn’t know what to do with, because every instinct seemed more wrong than the next. Instinct to claim, to destroy, to conquer, to hold with two hands and never let go. Another time Lasercorn had Sohinki on his back, wrestling over a little dagger Lasercorn’d brought as a gift, fully intending to hand it over until Sohinki made a big deal out of it, tussled for it and ended up on the floor. The problem was that the dagger had a small, dull green stone on the handle that Lasercorn said reminded him of Sohinki’s eyes. As soon as he said that, Sohinki seized on it—because how else were you supposed to respond when someone gave themselves away like that? –and Lasercorn gave himself away without any thought at all. But Sohinki lost that fight because of course Sohinki lost any fight Lasercorn didn’t let him win, the result being that Lasercorn had the dagger in his hand and Sohinki on his back and Lasercorn was shocked by his own desire then, though he did not recognize it as desire, an impulse to run the dagger down Sohinki’s face, incrementing the pressure on the tip to see what it took for the skin to break. And how long did they stay like that, Lasercorn menacing Sohinki with a weapon and Sohinki either extremely confused or scared for his life? Lasercorn was thrumming with coiled intent, poised to strike. They both laughed it off later, but.

Was Lasercorn always such an emotionally stunted oaf, or did he not recognize what he was feeling merely because he’d never felt this way before? Or maybe Lasercorn just didn’t _want_ to fall for a prince. That way only lay heartbreak. He even asked Sohinki if Sohinki broke someone’s heart before, and preposterously, Sohinki said no, but that someone did fall for him once, and it cost them their life. Which was how Lasercorn learned about Joven.

Joven was Sohinki’s personal guard, and they were friends until they became something more. Joven wasn’t particularly good at fighting or guarding but he was good at following Sohinki’s lead, a big guy with a big heart who treated Sohinki like a princess. Joven brought Sohinki sheet music, let Sohinki use him as target practice, and came with Sohinki on those long trips to out-of-the-way provinces, staying at extravagant, secluded villas and neglecting to do anything prince-like at all.

“Did you love him?” Lasercorn asked reluctantly.

They were in the music room again. Sohinki’s hands swept over the keys, once, twice, the wind rushing in from open windows almost too warm and rough, and then it stilled, as sudden as it had come in.

“I did.”

“Did you sleep with him?”

Sohinki smiled. His voice was low and dreamy.

“I played Joven that same song I played you. After that Joven kissed me, held me by my waist, and told me, _I have to_. And then he bent me over the seat.”

“How did he die?”

Joven was never going to be able to marry Sohinki. Sohinki was meant to marry some princess from across the Aegean Sea, sent away from power and disabused of any delusions of grandeur as soon as the new heir was born. Sohinki didn’t think it would change anything, but. Joven said, _If I could raise an army to take you I would_ , and Joven said, _You have that effect on people, you know,_ and Joven said, _I’d go crazy if you belonged to someone else_.

They were in love. They eloped. But they were also desperately stupid. Sohinki didn’t even really blame his uncle for killing Joven, because what could his uncle have done—if Sohinki was in his uncle’s shoes, would he have done anything different? —and anyway, they both knew that Joven was living on borrowed time. Joven had a sickness that lasted for a year when he was twelve, had a building collapse on him when he was fifteen, and everyone who had ever read his palm told him he shouldn’t have been alive as long as he was. When Joven died in Sohinki’s arms Sohinki was heartbroken, inconsolable, certain that nothing good would happen to him again, but he wasn’t vengeful and he wasn’t surprised.

“I’m sorry,” Lasercorn said.

“It’s okay,” Sohinki said. “Well, it’s not, but it’s okay. I’ve lived a charmed life.”

“You’re talking like your life is already over.”

“No,” Sohinki said, looking straight into Lasercorn’s eyes. “I’m just waiting for something to happen.”

Lasercorn was scared without knowing why.

“What do you mean?”

“I think,” Sohinki said slowly. “I think that ever since Joven died my life has been in stasis, and I’m waiting for someone else to come along.”

“What, like a prince?”

“Oh I don’t know.” Sohinki rubbed his eyes dry with the edge of his shirt sleeve. “In the end I might be brave enough to stop waiting.”

Lasercorn went to bed that night with Sohinki’s words rattling around in his head. He had only a vague sense that he wanted Sohinki to be brave, that he wanted to shake Sohinki’s shoulders and tell him to _be brave, goddammit_ , and that he was dreading the end of the visit, feeling young all over again, like he was begging his father to let him stay for one more day with his new friend. Lasercorn realized now, of course, that probably at that point, as early that point, Sohinki was already thinking about kissing Lasercorn before he left, kissing him at the last possible moment, shy and tender and desperate, brave and cowardly at the same time, throwing Lasercorn for a loop and changing both of their lives forever.

Lasercorn didn’t know how to respond. The improbability of a _prince_ falling for _him_ , the careful press of Sohinki’s slender body on his armor, the soft grassy smell from Sohinki’s skin, not to mention, the kiss—all of it rendered Lasercorn mute, stupefied him, and when Sohinki pulled back he was still in shock.

“Goodbye, my friend,” Sohinki said wistfully.

Lasercorn shook his head.

“What am I supposed to do with that?” He said.

They were in Sohinki’s room. His men were waiting at the city gate. They were meant to set off before dawn and Lasercorn only wanted to catch Sohinki for the last time, to say goodbye, to maybe find Sohinki sleepy and mussed and warm as he was wont to be in the early morning. They had no time left for _this_ , whatever this was, and they had no time left for life-long regrets and vague yearnings. What the fuck was he supposed to do with the kiss?

“I had to try it once,” Sohinki said. “You don’t have to do anything. Except maybe remember me and visit once in a while.”

Unwittingly Lasercorn took that to heart. He remembered everything.

He left a different man. He was constantly lost in thought. The journey back home proved conducive to moodily staring out at the distance and berating himself about his total inability to do anything after the kiss, but he wasn’t afforded that luxury at home. His men loudly speculated about a mental breakdown and tried to get him to patronize the local brothels, even when he just wanted to jack off to Sohinki in peace, because immediately after he left he understood that he was lost. There was no part of him left that was not in love. Whatever Sohinki’s last words to him meant, whether or not Sohinki was playing him, Lasercorn would still be grateful for the kiss. Without the kiss, Lasercorn might never have properly understood how he felt. Without the kiss, Lasercorn might only think of Sohinki now and again on one of his long marches across the steppes, wondering if the song and the person were as beautiful as he remembered. At least now he knew he was a pathetic creature who might for the rest of his life turn toward the direction of the citadel and hope that the man he wanted was still waiting there.

But as soon as Lasercorn understood what he was, he also realized what he needed to do. Maybe that was the potential that Sohinki saw in him: someone who could come along and change everything as he knew it. A hero who could save him. A warrior who would fight for him. A conqueror who was going to take him away. Did Sohinki make the gamble that Lasercorn was crazy enough and lovesick enough to march on the citadel? Or did Sohinki really fall for him _because_ he was a romantic psycho capable of terrible, jealous, wrathful things? Sohinki once asked how many people Lasercorn killed by his own hand and Lasercorn said it didn’t matter. If someone died by his men’s hands, if they died because they were evicted from their lands by his army, if they died while they were under siege—all of that death would still be added to the tally which probably went on a ledger somewhere, against the people Lasercorn saved, and he suspected that in the final accounting it wouldn’t even be close. But Lasercorn could not change what he was. He could not change the fact that it would be more painful to not have Sohinki in his arms than to march to his certain death. What did Joven say to Sohinki?

 _You have that effect on people, you know_.

He carefully asked Flitz if the men would revolt. Flitz laughed.

“They all got a good look at your prince. They would respect you for it, more like.”

And that was that.

***

Lasercorn knew it was doomed, from the start.

They would never be able to take the citadel with a thousand men. They promised land and salary, and they raised two more hundred, but it would still not be enough. They had to take the nearby city under Lord Wesley, take _his_ men, and maybe that would give them a chance. The problem being that Wesley’s men were so desirable precisely because they were seasoned veterans and numbered thrice Lasercorn’s own.

But Wesley was a fool. Wesley subscribed to a concept of fairness and chivalry that bordered on delusion. More disastrously, Wesley was absolutely uncharismatic and held the loyalty of almost no one, the army he led now he only inherited from his family. It was laughably easy to infiltrate and place spies even into Wesley’s inner circle. Lasercorn always meant to take that city anyway, he only had to expedite his plans by a few years.

When Lasercorn made his attack Wesley’s men were caught off guard. They were preparing for a march on the citadel themselves. Guard posts were carelessly abandoned, and then taken noiselessly in the night. When Wesley led his men back, they were intercepted and crushed. Everything was over in two days.

This was something Lasercorn wanted for years, and now that he had it he felt nothing. Every pleasure paled in comparison to that afternoon on horseback and that morning with the song. Maybe that was the reason that Lasercorn let Wesley go, because now that he could no longer feel the thrill of killing Wesley he just balked at the waste of it. Wesley and his men were already defeated, and they didn’t have to die. They had so many years left to live.

“Put down your arms,” Lasercorn said. “And you could go.”

Amazingly, Wesley proposed a counteroffer. Wesley could take his chances with the citadel first, and then if he failed it would be Lasercorn’s turn.

“Why would I do that?” Lasercorn was baffled.

Wesley shook his head, enigmatic.

“You asked the wrong question. The right question was, why would _I_ do that, why would I even make an attempt on the citadel, if I have been content to live in peace for years?”

Lasercorn growled. “Because if you want something you have to take it yourself.”

“A year ago,” Wesley said. “Listen closely. A year ago I visited the citadel and met the prince. I asked the king for the prince’s hand in marriage, but I was refused. I asked again and was refused again.”

“The prince,” Lasercorn said, and then found he couldn’t say anything else.

“The prince with green eyes and a harpsichord. The prince who is waiting for someone to come along.”

Someone. Or anyone.

How many more were there, and were they treated to the same play? How many delusional little warlords did Sohinki charm and court in the hopes of breaking his stasis? Did Sohinki kiss all of them? Did Sohinki play for all of them the same song?

For some reason Wesley’s boyishly good looks annoyed him. Surely Sohinki couldn’t have fallen for this.

“Now you understand,” Wesley said.

“I don’t,” Lasercorn said stubbornly. “Why do I have to let you make your attempt first?”

“Because I would weaken the citadel for you. I would most likely die, but then both of us would each have a sporting chance.”

Lasercorn was still lost. Did Wesley think this was a game? Nothing changed, Lasercorn realized. If he wanted something he still had to take it.

“For the last time,” Lasercorn said, “put down your arms. You have many years left to live.”

***

The siege lasted for six months, into the harsh, dry winter.

When the city gates finally opened and they poured inside, the men were nearly starved, cabin fevered, and Lasercorn did not care to stem the bloodshed. Order and discipline could wait until the men were not completely lost to the ecstasy of slaughter and pillage. But Lasercorn’s own mind was remarkably clear. Around him, only chaos. Inside his head, a steady drum beat and the patient, single-minded calm of someone who knew exactly what he wanted to do.

Sohinki was waiting in the music room. He was standing next to the window, half hidden by the shadow so that Lasercorn only found Sohinki as his eyes adjusted to the dark. But Sohinki’s face was limned by moonlight, his eyes shone bright and his lips were red and he was only as precisely beautiful as a crown prince ought to be.

“Did you come all this way for me?” Sohinki asked. His voice was unreadable.

Lasercorn didn’t immediately reply. He did not feel calm anymore. He unclasped his armor so that it fell to the floor, a loud clang reverberating in the darkness.

Sohinki flinched, just as Lasercorn crashed into him and slammed him against the wall.

They had not been this close in years. Lasercorn was nearly shaking.

“What do you think,” Lasercorn said.

“My family—”

“They’re dead.”

Sohinki blinked. To clear the tears away, Lasercorn realized.

“Surely there were other ways.”

“Lord Wesley sent two offers of marriage. Even he was refused.”

There was the faintest hint of a blush.

“They realized that Wesley was not what his father had been. But you. I would have, I mean,” Sohinki stopped himself.

“By then I already realized you could not be given to me,” Lasercorn said, remembering his conversation with Wesley. “I needed to take you.”

It didn’t matter which warlord Sohinki would have fallen for, only which warlord could march on the citadel and take the prince.

Sohinki shuddered, a full-body motion in Lasercorn’s arms. His hands clutched at Lasercorn’s shoulder.

“Will you do any raping and pillaging like the rest of your men?” Sohinki asked, nudging against Lasercorn’s dick, which Lasercorn only just realized was hard.

Lasercorn nosed along Sohinki’s cheekbone. He thought he could smell the summer days again, with the fresh, clean scent of the lake and the intoxicating heat of their bodies.

“That depends on whether or not you refuse me.”

Lasercorn wasn’t entirely sure if he meant what he said, but he knew that if Sohinki pushed him away he might go insane.

It didn’t matter. Sohinki yielded in his arms. There was no other way to describe it—Sohinki yielded to his kiss and when he picked Sohinki up Sohinki wrapped his legs around Lasercorn’s waist. It became frantic after that, but that was okay. It was Lasercorn’s spoils. It was okay if the first time was brutal and quick.

They barely had their breeches open before Lasercorn was lining himself up, his fat dick nudging against Sohinki’s hole. Sohinki was breathing heavily above him, holding on tighter now and not wanting to let himself sit down, as if he was suddenly terrified of falling. But Lasercorn steadied Sohinki against the wall with one hand and kept them lined up with the other, and made short, insistent thrusts until he felt Sohinki open up and let him in.

Sohinki kept making these hurt, whining noises into Lasercorn’s ears, moans that were caught between arousal and pain, and Sohinki screamed when he finally sat down all the way on Lasercorn’s dick. Between them, without warning, Sohinki came. Lasercorn’s shirt was sticky and splotched with come.

“You weren’t made for war, were you?” Lasercorn said. “You were made to be loved.”

“It hurts,” Sohinki grunted, resentful, but only because after he came he kept clenching uncontrollably on Lasercorn’s dick.

“We’re going to move,” Lasercorn decided. He wanted to see Sohinki’s face.

Sohinki made another series of truly pathetic noises as Lasercorn walked them to the bench. All those months pining after Sohinki, all those days wasting away in boiling tents and marching across the steppes, only for Sohinki to turn out to be so pathetic like this, coming as soon as he had a hot dick in his ass and cramping now, like a girl, after being taken for the first time.

Lasercorn lowered Sohinki onto the bench without pulling out. When Lasercorn pulled back, he saw Sohinki’s red eyes, Sohinki’s flushed face, Sohinki’s mouth open and wet with spit, and felt a pang a guilt, felt like a beast, taking Sohinki like that. As if Lasercorn was a savage.

But Lasercorn was the king of barbarians. What else could the king of barbarians do?

He lost track of how many times he took Sohinki that night. He knew that the first time he came he bent Sohinki in half to make himself fit as far as he would go, shooting so deep it’d be part of Sohinki and never come out. Deliriously, Sohinki said, “It’s hot, it’s hot inside,” and that nearly made Lasercorn come again. He opened Sohinki’s legs wider and fucked Sohinki through his orgasm, until come trickled out and bubbled up at Sohinki’s rim.

Everything was somehow hazier in the moonlight. By the end Sohinki was begging Lasercorn to stop one moment and demanding Lasercorn to fuck him harder the next, needful and imperious and contradictory, every part the conquered prince. At one point he drew Lasercorn close with a hand on Lasercorn’s face, and asked, “Do you love me,” softly, fatalistically, needing to be reassured.

“Every part of me is lost to you,” Lasercorn said. It was the most honest thing he could say.

“I shouldn’t.” Sohinki blinked his tears away again. “I shouldn’t love you, and yet. I feel so foolish. All along I was delivering myself into the lion’s den.”

Sohinki hid his face in his hands then, shamed, disgusted with himself, so beautiful it made Lasercorn ache.

“You must have known it was going to happen this way.”

“I didn’t,” Sohinki hiccupped. “I just hoped I could see you again. Why didn’t you do something sensible like send a letter or some shit like that?”

“So you could warn your family?”

Sohinki shook his head. He locked his legs behind Lasercorn’s back, pushing Lasercorn deeper in.

“I would have chosen you,” Sohinki said, pulling his hands off his green, green eyes. Lasercorn was mesmerized. “That’s why we are damned, because I would have chosen you.”

Lasercorn made short, aborted thrusts into Sohinki, just wanting to get close. So that was what it meant to be born to a monarch. Sohinki said it himself. Sohinki led a charmed life, he never had to choose, and indecisively, greedily, he hoped everything would change and simultaneously stay the same. He needed something like this to happen, needed someone to tell him no and take him against his will, needed to be conquered and made whole, violated and cherished, used and beloved.

“You are so spoiled,” Lasercorn said, coming into Sohinki again.

Sohinki twitched, gritting his teeth against the pleasure that made him clench, as if there was ever any doubt he was a creature made for love. At that moment Lasercorn was determined Sohinki would never feel anything but pleasure again, because that was the responsibility of taking a beautiful, spoiled prince for himself. Or maybe that was merely the effect that Sohinki had on men. Had Lasercorn ever been such a savage before? He fitted his hand against Sohinki’s throat, reverent, possessive, dragging Sohinki up for a kiss and finally letting his cock slip out. He’d never have his fill. He would take and take.

They would hibernate in the citadel for the rest of winter. In the spring they’d set out together to visit Lasercorn’s new provinces, at their leisure and as owners now, and luxuriate in the shade of vaulting cypresses in private gardens, or take a boat to a cold, still lake, or languidly take time to commission new harpsichords be brought to their villas, so that their evenings were filled with decadent, hypnotic songs. Lasercorn would make love to Sohinki everywhere, pull him into an alcove, out of the sight of the servants, or bend him over in the bath, or just make him sit on Lasercorn’s lap in the library, making obscene, sloppy noises from behind the shelves. And Sohinki said, pressing a careless kiss to Lasercorn’s forehead, he said, “Maybe you’re not meant for war either.”

If Sohinki was talking about this, this love, this felicity, then it was absurd. No one could have been meant for it. Lasercorn would have to pay it back ten times over in the next life, just for this one moment with Sohinki in the dark of the library, when he had as much of Sohinki as it was possible for another person to have. But Sohinki dropped a kiss onto Lasercorn’s brows right then, and in the corner of Lasercorn’s eyes and into the courtyards Lasercorn saw patches of evergreen blooming into blinding sunlight, and he thought no more of war or misfortune or the next life, just this, this sheer palpable joy, filling up his head and wiping everything else clean.

**Author's Note:**

> I am completely too fond of love triangles. I thought this one would be different but I just went back to my old way. 
> 
> Also I love comments. I'd say I write for comments but that wouldn't be true with this small fandom lol. Still, comments would be NICE, folks.


End file.
